


Looking Out for You

by Piano_Padawan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19355683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piano_Padawan/pseuds/Piano_Padawan
Summary: “You saved me back there,” he repeated, louder this time. “I heard you cast the spell, the one that slowed me down before I fell all the way.”“Arresto momentum,” Armitage murmured. He slammed his book shut and stared at Poe out the corner of his eye, as if he were preparing himself to look away at the right time. “Well, what was I supposed to do? Let you fall to your death?”Poe has a close call during an unsupervised Quidditch match and is saved by his housemate and long-term "maybe-more-than-friend" Armitage. It isn't the first time one of them has saved the other.Written for Day 6 of the GingerPilot Summer Event (First Line Challenge). The quote was "It's a wonder you're still alive". Companion one-shot to my other fic in the GingerPilot HP AU, "Home".





	Looking Out for You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars, or any of the characters, themes, etc. mentioned in this story. All copyrighted work here is intended for transformative purposes.

“It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

Poe Dameron rolled onto his back, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright rays of daylight. He was in the infirmary, though he could not recall how he’d gotten there. The last he could remember was the feeling of cool air rushing past him, the scream of an incantation from the bleachers and the brief pause in his descent before he plummeted the remaining twenty feet to the ground. He had blacked out upon impact. Given how far he’d fallen, he was lucky to have woken up.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

He turned in the direction of the voice and found a familiar face frowning back at him. Armitage Hux was sitting cross-legged in a stool beside the cot, balancing a potions textbook, a pad of parchment and a quill on his lap.

“ _Can you hear me?_ ” he repeated. Poe couldn’t decide whether he sounded irritated or concerned. “I was just telling you you’re lucky to be alive.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with you on that one,” Poe replied, rubbing the sore spot on his head. A faint bruise had bloomed on his left temple. It would have been worse, no doubt, if not for Madam Kalonia’s profusion of medicinal potions and healing charms. “How long have I been out?”

Armitage nodded towards the large clock above the entrance of the infirmary and answered flatly, “Approximately 18 hours.”

Poe sat up in alarm. It only made sense now that he thought about it – the pale sunlight and the relative uncrowdedness of the infirmary indicated that it was early in the day, and the match had been in the afternoon – but he still had trouble believing he’d been unconscious for so long. He’d been injured during Quidditch matches before, and he’d been knocked unconscious by a bludger during more than one of these accidents, but never for 18 hours at a time.

“Damn,” Poe said. It was then that he noticed the dark circles under Armitage’s eyes which were even more pronounced than usual. “Wait. How long have _you_ been here?”

Armitage averted his gaze back to his textbook, a tinge of a blush blossoming near his ears.

“None of your bloody business,” he said.

A wave of pain spread out from Poe’s bruised temple. He winced, clutching his head as the pain slowly subsided, but managed a smug grin, nonetheless.

“Did you stay here all night?” he asked Armitage. Surely he hadn’t…

“What part of ‘none of your bloody business’ makes you think I’ll answer that question?” the latter replied without looking up from his book.

Before Poe could question his roommate further, Madam Kalonia strode over to his bedside, holding a tray of potions. The Muggle instinct in him nearly made him ask for an aspirin before he realized that the drug probably wasn’t part of the usual wizarding cocktail of pain remedies. Indeed, the smoking bottle of blueish grey liquid Kalonia was carrying did not look anything like aspirin. (He also realized that he could not name a single magical pain remedy off the top of his head, which was worrisome considering he had a potions exam on protective and healing potions in three days.)

“Ah, I see you’re wide awake,” Kalonia said, setting the tray down on a nearby counter. She smiled at Armitage who seemed to tense at her arrival. “And I see your steadfast companion is still here.”

“‘Steadfast companion’,” Poe laughed. “You’ve got a new title, Hugs.”

Armitage shot him a look that could only mean “shut up or else”.

“I do hope you weren’t awake all-night studying, Mr. Hux,” Kalonia spoke more sternly now, but the note of concern beneath the strictness was unmistakable. Armitage was familiar with the tone, and Poe knew how he despised it.

“No, ma’am,” Armitage lied.

Deciding that a lecture would be of no use (she had tried countless times before), Kalonia gave a tight nod and moved to Poe’s bedside.

“The bruise looks much better now,” she said, brushing his hair away to examine the contusion. “We gave you butterfly weed balm for it last night. I’ll send you off with another vial to numb the pain. Remember, a little goes a long way. I have a dose of bruisewort elixir for the swelling now. One tablespoon ought to do it.”

She poured the prescribed amount of steaming potion into a short goblet and handed it to Poe, who sniffed the liquid warily. It smelled vaguely of fish oil and bleach. He forced himself to down the potion in one shot before he could dwell any longer on the odor. The bitter taste nearly made him gag.

“What the fuck was in that?” he coughed, realizing too late that he had cursed.

“Standard ingredients,” Kalonia replied. To Poe’s relief, she took away the remainder of the potion. “Nothing worth swearing about.”

“Sorry,” Poe said, grimacing again from the aftertaste. He was lucky Kalonia wasn’t one to deduct house points for petty offenses. He’d already lost ten points earlier that week in Professor D’Acy’s class for “language”.

“Now, you should rest for today,” Kalonia instructed, tucking away the medicine tray in a nearby cabinet. “But I won’t need to supervise you any longer. If you would be more comfortable in your dormitory, you’ve been formally discharged.”

“Thank you, Madam,” Poe replied.

Kalonia smiled and nodded towards Armitage, who had buried his nose in his book.

“Don’t thank me,” she said. “You’re lucky this was an easy case to fix. If no one had caught you before you hit the ground, you’d be dealing with much worse than a mouthful of bruisewort.”

The infirmary doors burst open and a gaggle of Hufflepuffs bustled in. Two students were dragging a third by the arms while the latter’s flaccid legs dragged along the floor. Kalonia excused herself and hurried over to the group.

“How many times must we regrow bones before you learn that healing charms are not to be fooled around with, Mr. Teffer?” Kalonia’s exasperated lecture echoed through the chamber.

Armitage looked up from his book long enough to amuse himself with the drama unfolding.

“So much for Teffer’s Medical Healing Club,” he muttered. His eyes turned to Poe. “How are you handling the bruisewort?”

“Well, I finished the dose,” Poe replied. “But considering it’s still inside me, I’d rather not think about it right now.”

“I suppose you don’t want to hear about all the rat intestines that go in there.”

“You sure do know how to comfort someone, Tage.”

Armitage opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly turned back to his book instead. His hands were sweating now. The drops were visible on the parchment, blurring with the ink.

“Really though,” Poe said. “Thank you for staying the night. You really didn’t have to do that. I definitely owe you one, and you know I hate to admit that.” He hoped to catch some shadow of a smile, but Armitage remained impassive. Poe hesitated but decided to press on. “And that isn’t all I owe you for.”

“Stop your gushing,” Armitage cut in. “I can see through it.”

But there was nothing to see through, and the thought of sincerity intimidated both of them.

“You saved me back there.”

The words came out softly, as if Poe were afraid to utter them. He wasn’t used to approaching a subject so timidly, especially not one that should have been a source of pride.

“You saved me back there,” he repeated, louder this time. “I heard you cast the spell, the one that slowed me down before I fell all the way.”

“ _Arresto momentum_ ,” Armitage murmured. He slammed his book shut and stared at Poe out the corner of his eye, as if he were preparing himself to look away at the right time. “Well, what was I supposed to do? Let you fall to your death?”

“You could have.”

The truth was that there were people at the school who _would_ have let him fall. He was in tune enough with the gossip to know that plenty of Slytherins would have happily accepted any excuse to replace their Muggle-born Quidditch captain. His performance had dispelled many early doubts and since earned him the respect of some of the more difficult teammates, but the blood purists were still a threat to be reckoned with.

“Don’t say that!” Armitage shot him a fiery look, but his glare was more fearful than irate.

“I’m just trying to be honest,” Poe said. “You didn’t even have to be at the match. It was a last-minute game, very informal. Just a couple of Ravenclaws wanting to challenge us again after we beat them in the _real_ match. Barely anyone came to watch…”

Armitage stiffened, clutching his textbook tight enough to make his knuckles turn white.

“I overheard a few people from the Ravenclaw team talking this morning,” he said, “They were saying something about jinxing brooms because there wasn’t any supervising professor. It wasn’t enough for me to report them at the time… though trust me, Ben and I reported them to Madam Kalonia as soon as we got you to the infirmary.

“By that time, you were already at the Quidditch fields, and I thought that if they were planning on doing something, there wasn’t any time to waste trying to get one of the professors to take me seriously. Sloane was off supervising third years at Hogsmeade and you know how everyone else just thinks I’m paranoid. So, I rushed over there about half an hour before you fell. I…” He faltered. A timorous quiver had come over his voice, and Poe could see that he was bitter about it. “I’m just relieved you’re alright now.”

“Armitage…”

Poe was interrupted by another rambunctious party entering the infirmary. This time, the group was led by Finn, the fourth-year Gryffindor he’d befriended during an incident with the Whomping Willow, followed by Tallie, Rey and an especially sulky Ben Solo. Armitage watched in alarm as the new visitors gathered around the cot.

“Poe! Are you alright?” Finn exclaimed, rushing to the older student.

“I’m fine,” Poe said. “Thanks, Buddy.”

Finn seemed slightly reassured, though he still looked rather panicked. Then again, he did have a reputation for being a little anxious. He drew out a package with shimmering wrapping and placed it on the bedside table.

“We got this for you,” he said. “Well, technically Rey got it for you. She went to Hogsmeade really early.”

“It’s an assortment of coconut ice and different toffees,” said Rey. “I think there’s some in there labelled ‘special effects’. I didn’t know what you liked. Ben didn’t want to say.”

“For the last time,” Ben cut in. “I don’t keep track of what type of candy everyone likes on the Quidditch team!”

“You should have asked me,” Tallie said. “And I could have told you the answer is everything, right Poe?”

“Well, sugar is sugar,” Poe replied. “Thanks, guys. You really didn’t have to…”

The gathering was halted by Madam Kalonia, who had just finished administering a dose of skele-gro to a moaning student. She looked quite flustered by the commotion.

“Looks like you’re very popular indeed, Mr. Dameron,” she said. “If your friends would like to visit, however, they’ll have to sign into the visitor’s log first and keep it down. You really should rest.”

“Of course,” Armitage said. The newcomers turned to stare at him as if they hadn’t noticed he was there. “In fact, I’d best be getting out of the way before it gets any more overcrowded around here. Poe, I am relieved you’re feeling better.”

With that, he gathered his belongings and slipped away.

“Armitage, wait,” Poe called after him.

The door swung shut behind the redheaded prefect, leaving Poe and the rest of his visitors.

“He seems really grouchy for someone who just won 50 house points,” Finn remarked.

“He won 50 points?” Poe asked.

“Yes, um… don’t get me wrong. He deserved them.” The fact that Finn was saying anything positive about Armitage was more than enough to pique Poe’s curiosity. “Sloane awarded them when she heard about how he cast the slowing charm on you.”

“And now we’re ahead of Gryffindor,” Tallie proudly declared. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

_Everyone’s talking about it_. Was that why Armitage was so reluctant to discuss the incident? Poe knew that the latter appreciated receiving credit for his work when it came to praise from a professor or bonus points for an assignment, but this was a different matter entirely. After being the main subject of desultory chatter in their third year, Armitage had developed a resentment for any form of gossip (and he was often justified in doing so).

“I should go after him,” Poe muttered. He slid down from the bed, grabbing his wand and the gift box from the bedside table. “Thanks again for the sweets, guys. I’ll catch up with you more at lunch.”

 

He found Armitage hunched over a parchment scroll in the Slytherin prefect dormitory. The redhead started at the sound of another person entering the room, jerking his head around to see the intruder.

“Sorry, Tage,” Poe said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Armitage set aside his quill and heaved a deep sigh.

“Shouldn’t you be off with your friends?” he asked bitterly.

“I wanted to check on you,” said Poe. “And it also occurred to me that I didn’t really get a chance to say ‘thank you’ for saving…”

“Please, Poe,” Armitage groaned. “Get over it. The school already can’t stop chattering about what happened. And of course, they’re talking about _why_ I did it.”

“Why did you do it?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Armitage paused, as if he were debating whether to take the question seriously.

“What obvious answer do you want to hear,” he growled. “Besides the part about me having the basic decency of not wanting you to fall twenty stories when there was something I could do about it, that is.” He crossed his arms, seeming to shrink into himself, concealing his trepidation with acrimony. “I know you’ve already had it figured out. You being the incorrigible flirt you are, I’d be stunned if you didn’t know.”

Of course, Poe knew. He’d known for nearly two years now. There was a reason that neither of them had pursued any serious type of romance within that time, despite a bit of noncommittal fooling around on Poe’s behalf. Under kinder circumstances, he would have seized the opportunity the moment he’d first sensed his affections were reciprocated. He wasn’t used to holding back, just as Armitage wasn’t used to anything but restraint.

“I…” Poe was shocked to find himself stuttering. “I didn’t want to rush you. Not when… not after…”

He decided it was best not to bring up the incident. While he had been fortunate enough to freely realize all aspects of his identity without judgment or contempt, the story had gone very differently with Armitage. The latter had not so much come out three years ago as he’d been _pushed_ out following a rejection that would have been humiliating enough in and of itself without the relentless ridicule that had followed. Both students and staff spoke of Hogwarts as it were a sanctuary. In some cases, this was true, but Armitage had always been on the outskirts, too wary of people to find a way into the refuge.

But whatever bullying he endured at the hands of the students was nothing compared to his father’s reaction. Neither Poe nor Armitage knew the details of how the rumors had circulated back to Brendol Hux, but the elder Hux had demanded that his son come home in the middle of the school year, conjuring an excuse about a family emergency that the school did not have the authority to dispute. It wasn’t the first time Brendol had done something of the like, and every time, Armitage came back with more welts and bruises than his best efforts could conceal.

A month had passed before Armitage returned, even more distrustful than before and eerily detached. The first few weeks back had been an utter wreck. For the first time in his academic career, he’d failed two exams and fallen so desperately behind on his papers that several professors had taken him aside to discuss alternative grading policies. He had grown extremely reluctant to eat proper meals, nauseated by both the idea of food and the unwanted attention he received in the Great Hall, so much so that he’d lost over ten pounds by the end of the semester. And though he barely slept, Poe remembered that Armitage had spent an absurd amount of time in bed. Poe had often come into the dormitory to find the latter either pretending to read a textbook or lying down with his eyes half closed, pretending to be asleep. In both cases, he’d refused most attempts at conversation.

It had taken Poe the better part the next two years to help him pick up the shattered pieces. They’d known each other before, having shared a room for their entire time at school, but they hadn’t been close until the disaster. Poe quickly realized that what had happened between them was more than a pity case – Armitage had too much mettle for that – and he soon caught on that it was also more than a friendship. If it had been another boy, he would have known precisely how to approach the matter. But Armitage was never just another boy.

“Not when what?” Armitage asked shakily. “Not when you know I’ve been scared to death of it for this long?”

Poe sat down on the bed beside him. Armitage flinched at first, but slowly relaxed, easing his breathing into a calm rhythm.

“May I?” Poe asked, giving Armitage’s hand a gentle nudge with his own.

The redhead hesitated for a moment before answering with a faint, “Yes”, and slipping his left hand into Poe’s right.

“You know you don’t have to be scared of it,” Poe said. He stroked over Armitage’s calloused palms, massaging the back of the hand with his thumbs. If he looked closely enough, he could see the scars just below the knuckles, the ghostly inscriptions left by repeated use of a Black Quill. He’d heard plenty of horror stories about the Blood Quill and some of Brendol’s other favored methods of punishment. A burst of anger boiled within him at the thought. “I’ll look out for you… like you looked out for me today. We can help each other.” Poe held the other boy’s hand a little tighter.

“You’re mental,” Armitage said.

“Wanna bet?”

A long stretch of silence passed between them before Armitage shuffled closer, leaning to the side until their heads were nestled against each other, shuddering at first but gradually relaxing. Poe felt his own heart race; he doubted it would go any farther – normally, Armitage was too distrustful of touch to get this close to begin with – but he didn’t mind. In that instant, they were both contented, both at peace, and they were both grateful for it.

“You’re a fool, Poe,” Armitage murmured, “If you think this will be that easy.”

“I thought you know by now that I never go for what’s easy,” Poe quipped. “Makes life boring.”

Armitage gave him a weak smile.

“It’s a wonder you’re still alive,” he said.

“A wonder indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcomed too. I'm used to writing slow-burn fics so one-shots are still kind of new to me.


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